Arkhangelsk

Held by winter's chokehold fast
Fixed in anxiety's firm grip
The frost that burn the arteries
Underneath the heavy clouds
The lifted sword, the broken shield
The hand that drew the final word
From the frozen mouth of Arkhangelsk

Let them go, let them burn the world to cinders
Let their heads hang down
Falling through the tungsten skies
On the burning grounds of Arkhangelsk

To the eye of judgement now
One will stand in the time of the end
Time of the end

Sun to stone, air to fire
All to nothing and nothing to nil
They gather, drowning to the sounds
Of the grinding wheels of Arkhangelsk

With one word, one movement in the fabric
Everything dies
The storm that sweeps the world away
From the frozen plains of Arkhangelsk

Inherit from the morning star
What others brought
And the land forgot

Soaring through Van Allen belts
Through blazing stars, through dying suns
Collide not now, but carry us
Through the burning air of Arkhangelsk